This morning a special celestial event took place in the early morning hours. The super-moon, was also a blue moon, and a total eclipse, or blood moon, added to its natural charm.
Last night, I laid out my sherpa lined sweatpants, a warm sweater, then crawled into bed wearing my thermal underwear. I set my alarm for the unseemly hour of five a.m. Oh, yes, I used to wake up at five on every work day, but with a few years of retirement under my belt, my eyelids do not want to open at that time of day.
With such a photo op possible, I leaped out of bed and into warm outer clothing, threw on a coat, hat, scarf, and gloves. My dog was excited that I was up so early, and she thought it was all about her. My first trip out the door was to scope out the moon. I took a few preliminary photos, came back inside, put the coffee on, leashed the dog and headed back out the door.
The next time I went outside, I brought my cell phone, both cameras, a banana, and a cup of coffee. Luckily, I had a great view of the moon from the deck. I pulled a wicker chair up to the table and got comfortable. As I looked at the sky, I thought about the wonders of nature and the power of God. I thought about heaven and about the people who wait there.
A calm, peaceful feeling surrounded me as I sat alone in the still of the night, watching the moon and the clouds drifting along. I thought about Jim and all the loved ones who no longer reside on this earth that we call home.
This morning was reminiscent of the cool mountain mornings when Jim and I camped at Moraine Park in the Rocky Mountain National Park.
Many of my most vivid memories are of our trips to Colorado. We first went in 1983 and continued with the annual trips until they became too difficult. In Indelible, I recall one of the trips where Jim’s dementia changed what had always been a time of relaxation into a stressful situation.
Excerpt from Indelible:
In retrospect, I could measure the progression of Jim’s dementia by our annual trips to Colorado. In 1995, putting up the tent was a fiasco.
“This is the way it goes together,” Jim said picking up a pole from the pile of different length rods. We tried slipping the rods into the canvas only to find our final creation was not a tent.
“Okay, now are you ready for me to dig out the instructions?” I asked with as much patience as I could muster.
“I guess so,” he said grudgingly. Between the two of us, we managed to slide out the rods. Even with directions, it was hard to figure out what went where.
“That’s not right,” Jim insisted.
“Humor me.” I huffed and puffed in the thin mountain air as I struggled with the poles.
After a lot of stress, strain, and cuss words, our home away from home looked like it was supposed to.
As I wrapped myself in the warmth of my memories, a sudden cold wind roared across the deck rattling the chairs and sending a shiver through my body.
Well, that was odd, I thought. The clouds cleared, and the moon shone through. I snapped a few photos and set my camera on the table. I took a sip of coffee, looked at the heavens, and thought about the people who wait for us beyond the moon.
Copyright © January 2018 by L.S. Fisher